  "Oh how cold and still and gray," cried Ellen. They were in the very heart of the mist. She could hear the steady beat of the gander's wings, but the grayness around was so thick that she could see nothing but the dim outline of his neck before her. She would not have known whether they were moving at all if it had not been for the stir of air against her face. "Mistress, do you see light before us?" asked the gander. "No, nothing but the grayness." "One might travel around and around in this mist, and yet never find one's way out," said the gander half to itself. On and on it flew. "Is there no light before us yet?" it asked again, and its wings seemed to flag. "No, there is nothing." "Can you hear any sound?" Ellen listened. "Nothing but the beating of your wings." "Mistress, I no longer know whether I am flying forward or not. For all I can tell I may be going around in a circle." The child looked helplessly about her. "I wonder if I were to blow upon the horn the huntsman gave me whether some one would hear and answer?" she suggested. "You might try it." Ellen raised the horn to her lips and blew. They both listened, but there was no reply. Again she blew. Still silence. The third time she drew a deep breath and blew with all her might. The gander stayed his flight to listen, and now, away toward the right hand, there But Ellen looked about her in dismay. They were in the midst of a great barren desert. There was no tree nor house in Yes, there was one thing alive, for just as Ellen thought this, something stirred and stood up from a heap of rocks nearby. It was a lad of about twelve or thirteen. At first Ellen thought it was the son of the gardener they had at home; it certainly looked like him. The little girl was very fond of this lad, though people used to say he was queer and not quite right in his mind. He often made up stories and told them to her. She never had felt as glad to see him, though, as she felt then. When she went closer, however, the lad did not seem to know her, so she wondered whether it was the gardener's son after all. It certainly looked like him. "Was that you blowing a horn?" asked the lad. "Yes; we were lost in the mist and wanted to get out, but we wanted to get out on the side where the Queerbodies live." "Well, this is it." Ellen looked about her. "But where are they? I saw their shadows on the mist." The lad laughed. "Oh that's nothing. Why, I used to see their shadows against the sky even when I was at home, but you'll have to travel far from here before you find them. I suppose you have a compass." "No. What for?" "To find your way across the desert. Now I have a compass all right, but I'm so tired I can't go a step further." The lad paused and looked at the gander. "I don't suppose your gander could carry double?" "No, I couldn't," answered the gander. "Well, I didn't think you could, but it's too bad, for I could have told you how to go. If I only had brought anything to begin with I'd make something to ride on; but I didn't know the journey would be so long and weary." "Do you mean," said Ellen, "that if you had anything to begin with you "Oh yes. Almost everybody, before they start out for the Queerbodies', learns to make something out of nothing; but I was in such a hurry to start I only learned to make much out of little, and that's the trouble now." "Haven't you anything in your pocket to begin on?" asked Ellen, for the lad's pockets were bulging with something that jingled every time he moved. "Nothing that would do. It must be something that was once alive. Now you don't happen to have such a thing about you as a twig or a chip of wood?" "No. That is, nothing but a little wooden pig, and it was never alive." "No, but the wood was when it was growing. Will you let me see it?" As Ellen drew the toy from her pocket the boy took it from her eagerly. His eyes sparkled. "The very thing!" he cried. "I can make a magnificent riding-horse out of this." Holding the pig to his mouth, the boy began to whisper When it was too large for the boy to hold in his hands he set it down on the ground. Still he kept whispering in its ear and the pig kept on growing, until at last it was as large as a pony. When it was that big the lad stopped. "There!" he said to Ellen, looking at the pig with pride, "how is that for a riding-horse?" "I think it's fine, but I shouldn't call it a riding-horse; I think it's more of a riding-pig." "All the same," said the lad. "Now the next thing is a bridle. When a magic pig like this once does start going "Nothing but this," and Ellen touched the golden chain that the dwarfs had hung about her neck. "That will do," cried the boy; "give it here." He seemed to feel so sure that Ellen would lend him the chain that she did not know how to say no, so she took it off and handed it to him. The lad quickly arranged it as a bridle, and then before he mounted the pig he took out his compass and made sure of the direction in which they were to go. "And now I'm ready," he cried; "follow me." With that he leaped on the pig's back, and no sooner had he touched it than away it went like the wind. Its blue legs with the pink spots twinkled along so fast that it took all the gander knew to keep up with them. On and on they went; the wind whistled past Ellen's ears, and the ground The lad, however, did not seem to mind how fast they went. Now and then he settled himself more comfortably on the pig's back, and now and then he took out his compass and looked at it to make sure they were going in the right direction. After they had gone a long distance in this way he drew rein. "There!" he said, "the desert is passed; but there is a greater danger than it to come." "What is that?" "Look!" And the lad pointed. Ellen looked, and then she saw that what she had thought was a stretch of grass and rocks before them, was really an enormous green and gray dragon that lay stretched in a rocky defile. His neck and tail were coiled upon the ground; his wings stretched up the rocky walls on each side of him, and their tips were like tall green trees against the sky. Presently he turned Ellen was frightened. "Suppose he comes at us," she whispered. "Oh no, he won't pay any attention to us," the lad assured her. "That is, "Couldn't we go round?" "No, this is the only way, right between these rocks." "I could fly over," said the gander boldly. The lad laughed. "Fly over! Why look at his wings. He'd catch you in a minute. Have you ever seen a bird after a little butterfly? That's the way he'd catch you if you tried any such tricks as that." "Then what are we to do?" asked Ellen. "Wait," answered the lad. "They'll come to feed him after a while; maybe in a week or so; and after he's been fed he always sleeps for ten minutes; then we can safely go past, for nothing will waken him for those ten minutes. You might hit him on the head with an axe and he wouldn't stir." "A week or so!" cried Ellen in dismay. "Why I can't wait a week or so, "Well, I don't see what we can do unless you have something to feed him with." "I have a golden egg. That's all." "A golden egg!" cried the lad joyfully. "Why didn't you say so before? Why, it's just the thing. Give it to me." He took the egg from Ellen and slowly rode over toward the dragon. The great creature watched him with its blinking eyes, and when the lad seemed to be coming too near it raised its head and hissed warningly. Ellen trembled, the sound was so loud and terrible, as though a dozen engines were letting off steam all at once. The lad, however, did not seem at all frightened. He checked the pig and motioned to the dragon to open its mouth. Ellen had seen people motion to the elephant at the Zoo in that same way when they wanted it to lift up its The dragon seemed to understand, for after the boy had motioned once or twice it opened its great jaws. Then the lad threw the golden egg in, and it seemed just as small a thing for the dragon as a peanut or a currant would to an elephant. The dragon waited a while with its mouth still open for the boy to throw some more in. As he did not do this, however, it closed its mouth and began to chew the golden egg. It chewed, and it chewed, and it chewed, and all the while it chewed it seemed to be growing sleepier and sleepier. At last it swallowed the egg, and then its eyes shut tight and it went fast asleep. The boy turned and beckoned to Ellen. "Come on," he shouted at the top of his lungs. "Oh don't talk so loud," Ellen whispered, coming up to him as fast as she could. "You might waken him." The lad burst into a shout of laughter that made the little girl tremble. "Not I," he cried. "He'll sleep for nine minutes yet. One minute has gone already." "Then let's hurry." The gander flew up and on, and the boy was not slow to follow, riding his blue and pink pig right over the dragon. Ellen was in terror lest it should waken in spite of what the boy had said, but he did not seem in the least afraid. He even seemed to take pleasure in making the pig trot the full length of the dragon's tail just as children take pleasure in walking along a railroad track. At last they were safely over, and Ellen drew a sigh of relief. On and on they went, and instead of the rocky walls on either side of them growing lower they grew higher and higher, arching over more and more until at last they met and made a sort of gallery. There was very little light here, and when at last the pig stopped and the gander settled to the ground The eyes of the boy were flashing with eagerness. "It is the door of the Queerbodies' house," he cried. He sprang from the pig, and, taking hold of the handle, he tried to open it. "Locked!" he added. Slipping his hand into his pocket he drew from it a whole handful of keys. Then Ellen knew that they were what had jingled every time he moved. He began to try one key after another, but none of them seemed to fit. As he was busy in this way a curious roar sounded through the gallery, echoing and re-echoing from the rocky walls. "What's that?" cried Ellen. "Oh, only the dragon yawning. He must have wakened up," answered the lad coolly, still busy with his keys. "But won't he follow us?" "No; he only guards the entrance to the defile." Finding that none of the keys he first held would open the lock the lad had drawn out another handful; but these were no better than the others. One after another he tried all that he had, but not any would unlock the door. Having tried the last of all, the boy threw it down and sank upon the floor in despair. "It is no good," he cried. "It is just as I feared. And yet I've been collecting those keys for the last seven months." "Can't you unlock it?" "No." "Then what are you going to do?" "I don't know. I didn't mind the desert or the dragon, but this was what I was afraid of all along." "Mistress," said the gander, "Where is the key that the lady Fatima gave you? If what she said was true, it should unlock the door." "Oh yes!" cried Ellen. "I forgot it." With eager fingers she took the key from her pocket and pressed it into the lad's hand. "Try this," she said. Very hopelessly the boy arose and put the key to the lock. His face changed as he found it seemed to go in it easily. He turned the key, the lock slipped back, the door opened, and Ellen, following close at his heels, entered at last the House of the Queerbodies. |
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